Friday, July 22, 2011


My errands this morning found me at the local drug/toy/stationary store, shopping for goodie-bag items for Ethan and Jacob's upcoming 9th birthday party.

Captain America Pez dispensers and Gogos Crazy Bones. (Because I know you want to know.)

I suppose I was feeling the weight of their near full nine years upon this earth when I climbed up the stairs to the toy floor, and right into the sight of a three year old boy entranced by the play area's Thomas train tables.

And I have to catch my breath. It all comes tumbling back. Here, now becomes here, then...

How many hours had I spent, mom-sized butt wedged into toddler-size seats, beside those magic rectangular islands of Sodor?

If I squint I can almost see my boys here again, their curls golden brown and blond, squabbling over possession of the best freight cars, the one James the Red Engine whose face has not been loved into oblivion. "Mine" yells Ethan, while Jake howls and growls like a wolf.

Sometimes the boys would even pull their own precious trains out of their pockets, carried forth out of our home on promise of safekeeping, unable to resist the allure of watching them travel over bridge, through tunnel, into the shed and back out again. Maybe take a wild spin on the turntable.

What? Has a train plummeted off the highest bridge, into the river? Oh, well, accidents happen. The greatest entertainment. And they provide Jacob with the opportunity to appropriately script: "He tried to apply the brakes, but it was too late!"

My boys are so big now, Ethan's train days many years behind him. It's like opening a forgotten door to watch this sweet little boy squealing in delight as Edward, once more, rounds the bend.

Jacob still revisits the Island of Sodor from time to time, as he spirals back again - with greater understanding - through old delights. Yet he, too, is marching (though, through the gift of autism, infinitely more slowly) away from the simple, little boy pleasures of trains and train tables.

And stories that always end fortunately, with no one getting hurt.

Mama's Losin' It
I am linking up this post to Mama Kat's writers workshop.  It was inspired by the prompt "The simple things..."

I'm also linking this post up to Maxabella's I'm grateful for... because I am infinitely grateful for my boys that were, and my boys that are.

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